


Nothing Left to Lose

by LauraEMoriarty



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 21:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraEMoriarty/pseuds/LauraEMoriarty





	Nothing Left to Lose

“So what _do_ you want from me?” Jack crosses her arms over her chest, and she is all snarling and anger personified. The look she gives Shepard-- well, if looks could kill. Her heavily tattooed head and barely there clothing gives her the impression that she could murder everyone in their sleep.

 

“Maybe I just want to know you better,” Shepard says, settling his back against the cool, cold metal of the _Normandy_ hull.

 

Jack scoffs, her eyes downcast-- she wants to look at anyone-- _anything_ \-- other than the gaze of Dan Shepard. He sees too much with those blue eyes of his-- too much that she’d rather hide from herself, from the entire galaxy.

 

“Bullshit. Everyone wants something,” Jack retorts, her sarcasm heavy and thick. “Even _you_ , Shep. You want something from me.”

 

“Actually, I don’t.” His honesty startles her.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you’re my friend-- I don’t _need_ anything from you.”

 

Again, his startlingly blue eyes bore into her, trying to scruitnise every moment she stands there. Naked to his gaze, she is the moth reaching for the flame, the hand reaching for the sky, buried in a mired muddy trench somewhere.

 

She remembers this conversation, later, as they approach the Omega Relay.

 

Maybe tonight, she can be honest with herself. She _loves_ him, and she knows that neither of them could come back, and they are so terrified of being vulnerable, terrified of what it means to rely on another person.

 

“Daniel,” Jack says, pressing her lips to his, his name a sigh of prayer, a whisper of something more.

 

“Jack,” Shepard says, as his hands reach her hips, fumbling and laughing.

 

“I never wanted anything from you-- but I _need_ you now.” She hates herself for admitting that.

 

“Are you sure?” Shepard asks, his hands gentle for one so used to the messy business of killing people.

 

She knows that they’re both good at what they do, and that what they have now should be explored.

 

“Fuck, I’m here-- isn’t that enough?”

“It is,” Shepard replies, hands stroking bare flesh, pulling her closer as they tumble together, all half-dressed and eager to get to the bed. He lifts her, pulling her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, sliding up and down against him, seeking the elusiveness of that completion.

 

Lying there later, his arms wrapped around her waist, she lies awake, thinking, dreaming, not really understanding why fate has put her in his path.

 

He is fire, and she is wood.

 

They combust, ravenous for each other, each lick of flame ignited by the oxygen, the feeling of skin against skin, biotics blue and eerie against the cabin walls.


End file.
